Bravely unto Breeland
by Elf Eye
Summary: Mithrandir, Legolas, and Estel journey to Breeland at a time when Middle-earth is growing perilous. This story should be considered part of “The Nameless One” series because in it Legolas is referred to as Elrond’s foster son.
1. Chapter 1: Confidence or Caution

**My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.**

**This story should be considered part of "The Nameless One" series because in it Legolas is referred to as Elrond's foster son. It is set after Legolas's reunion with Thranduil, so Legolas goes by his proper name rather than by Anomen. Legolas has come back to visit Rivendell at a point at which Estel is a late adolescent. **

**This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of **_**The Hobbit **_**and**_** The Lord of the Rings**_**. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as **_**The Silmarillion**_**. **

**Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for **_**Parallel Quest**_**, but shorter pieces are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.**

**Chapter 1: Confidence or Caution**

"Estel wishes to accompany Legolas and Mithrandir on their next foray into Breeland," observed Elrond.

"Foray?" said Glorfindel. "I hardly think that an excursion into Breeland may be described as a foray!"

"As Galadriel likes to say," Elrond replied, "the world is changing. In these days even a journey on an open, well-traveled road can prove perilous."

"So you will not permit Estel to accompany them, the way being so dangerous."

"Oh, but I will," Elrond replied calmly. "Estel has had much practice tracking and bringing down deer, but it is time that he encountered more dangerous quarry—or experienced what it is to be quarry himself. 'Twere better he did so in the company of Legolas and Mithrandir than in the company of folk less wise."

Glorfindel grimaced. Elrond was no doubt thinking of his twin sons, who a fortnight ago had decided to attack a band of Orcs on their own instead of returning to Rivendell in quest of reinforcements. The twins had defeated their enemy, leaving none alive, but Elladan and Elrohir both had been injured and would not be permitted to return to patrol for until their wounds were completely healed.

"Yours was a scouting mission only," Glorfindel had said to them sternly as he stood by handing Elrond unguents and bandages whilst the elf lord tended to his sons. "Scouts do not engage the enemy but rather return with intelligence so that their captain may determine how best to marshal his forces."

Elladan hung his head, abashed, but Elrohir, always more stubborn than his brother, attempted to defend himself.

"We needed no reinforcements," he avowed. "By our hands alone our foes were defeated."

"Yes, but they would have likewise been defeated had you sought reinforcements—and the borders of Imladris would not have been weakened by the sequestration of two warriors. Victory without injury is to be preferred to a victory that leaves two warriors unable to contribute to the defense of their people. Your deed was a selfish one, Elrohir, for you satisfied your own desires without thinking of the needs of your comrades."

At these words of rebuke Elrohir did hang his head. "I behaved rashly," he said unhappily.

"Yes," agreed Glorfindel dispassionately.

Now Elrond spoke. "I understand your motives, Elrohir—yours and your brother's. You were thinking of your mother, who was cruelly abused by our enemies. But if you would honor your Naneth, do not needlessly place yourself in harm's way. If you die or suffer grievous harm, you will add to her sufferings rather than ameliorate them."

Elrohir nodded mutely, and Elrond kissed him upon the forehead and likewise bestowed a kiss upon his twin. Then he and Glorfindel left the brothers to their thoughts.

Remembering this conversation, Glorfindel shook his head bemusedly. "Was I ever as heedless of my safety, Elrond?" he asked.

Elrond quirked his famous eyebrows. "You are called 'twice-born' for a reason, Glorfindel."

"But I did not rush rashly toward my death," Glorfindel objected.

"My friend," smiled Elrond, "you asked me to judge whether you had ever been heedless of your safety. You chose to sacrifice yourself by holding a pass against a fearsome enemy so that your people might flee; thus it needs must be said that you were heedless of your own well-being. It does not follow that you were rash. You were quite level-headed when you decided to turn back and stand single-handed against the foe you knew to be your bane."

Glorfindel tried not to look self-conscious, but it was hard to be modest when one was a twice-born balrog slayer. Elrond laughed.

"Truly, Glorfindel, you mustn't be distressed. You have used your status to great effect these many centuries. You awe elflings and woo maidens, and all on the strength of your reputation as the indomitable warrior who defeated the undefeatable—even if you yourself were defeated in the process."

"Too many 'defeats' in that sentence," returned Glorfindel, who now was smiling himself. "Ah, but here is Legolas."

Summoned by Elrond, the young Elf stood in the doorway politely waiting for leave to enter the elf-lord's sanctum. Elrond gestured that he should step forward.

"Legolas, my son, you no doubt are in the midst of preparing for your journey to Breeland."

"I have finished my preparations, Ada. We travel light."

"You might wish to add a few rolls of bandages and a jar of salve to your pack."

Legolas looked curious. "Your pardon, Ada, but why should I carry more than my usual kit?"

"Estel will be accompanying you."

Legolas paused before answering. He had been looking forward to spending uninterrupted time with his mentor Mithrandir. On the other hand, he was very fond of his foster-brother Estel. After a moment, he grinned. "If Estel is to accompany us, will you please ask him to take a bath beforehand? If there are any foes between here and Breeland, he will bring them down upon us by smell alone!"

"On the contrary," Elrond replied lightly, "he will disguise your passage. Anyone who comes upon his spoor will believe that it was laid down by an Orc or a Troll." Then the elf-lord grew serious. "Do look after him Legolas. Estel is an excellent horseman, and he wields a sword better than anyone save Glorfindel. Still, he is young even in the eyes of Men. His eagerness to confront our foes is commendable, but at the same time it may draw him into danger."

"I will see him safe to Breeland and back," Legolas promised. "However, despite my jesting, we are not likely to meet any enemies on our journey. The scouts have just returned from the west and report no sign of any enemies."

"Were Erestor still your tutor," Glorfindel observed, "he would chide you for your poor logic. A scout may only report, 'In such and such a place, at such and such a time, I found no trace of my foe'. Do not be complacent on that account!"

"I understand," Legolas replied, a little nettled at being reproved. "Yet you must agree that, in terms of probability, it is not likely that we will encounter trouble."

"Do not relax your guard on the basis of what is or is not likely," Glorfindel warned. "Always act on the basis of what is possible rather than what is probable."

"I will," Legolas promised quickly. Glorfindel looked searchingly at him, but then he nodded. Elrond seemed satisfied as well. He arose and embraced his foster-son. "Now go and pack those bandages and the salve," he said snilingly. "Even if you encounter no enemies, Estel is sure to skin a knee or two."

Legolas grinned and bowed to his foster-father and his weapons master. Then he hurried to his chamber, stopping along the way to retrieve two rolls of bandages and a small jar of salve from a storeroom. The young Elf was much more sanguine than Elrond and Glorfindel about the possibility that he and his friends would encounter enemies. However, the extra objects would add little weight to his pack, so he could have no objection to adding them.

In his chamber, after adding the bandages and the salve to his pack, he took out his twin knives and examined them. Finding that they needed no honing, he oiled them and replaced them in their sheaths. Just then Estel knocked upon the door before bounding into the room. Had the young Man been only a little more exuberant, Legolas would have said he skipped. However, Estel stayed this side of skipping and so preserved enough dignity that Legolas forbore teasing him over his high spirits.

"Ada tells me that you will join me in accompanying Mithrandir to Breeland," the Elf observed, picking up an arrow and sighting along it. Satisfied as to its straightness, he put it aside and picked up another.

"I do not know why you persist in checking those arrows," Estel said. "You checked them yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before that. You never leave off checking them."

"Nor shall I ever," Legolas replied. "Wood can warp. Just because an arrow is straight one day, that doesn't mean it will be straight the next."

Had Glorfindel been there, he might have seized upon Legolas's words to reinforce his warning that the fact a scout found an area free of enemies one day did not mean it would be free of enemies the next. However, the balrog-slayer was _not_ there, and it did not occur to Legolas that his words to Estel had any relevance to his own situation. Men have a saying that a person who can see a splinter in another's eye will be quite incapable of perceiving the plank in his own, and Legolas was proof of the wisdom of this adage. Legolas was an Elf, but he was much younger than Elrond and Glorfindel, and like the young of all races he was prone to at least occasional lapses in judgment.

The next morning, Legolas arose early and went to Elrond's chamber, where he broke fast with Elrond, Glorfindel, and Mithrandir. Estel had already purloined bread and cheese from the kitchen and for once did not avail himself of an opportunity for a second breakfast, choosing instead to hurry to the stable to check on the horses. As for the Elrohir and Elladan, by Elrond's instructions they were still closeted in the House of Healing—"for," he said dryly, "they ought to have every opportunity to reflect upon the events that are the occasion of their having merited this opportunity to rest."

After breakfast, Mithrandir and Legolas bade their companions farewell and strolled toward the stable. As they passed the kitchen, the Head Cook came out holding a parcel. "Here," he said, thrusting it toward Legolas. "Out there in the wild you will eat no proper meals. You will grow famished, and when you return to Imladris you will try to steal food from the kitchen. This calamity I would prevent! Therefore, take this parcel and preserve yourself from starvation."

Inclining his head, Legolas accepted the parcel. He and the Cook both knew that game was plentiful in the forests that lined the Great East Road, and he suspected that inside the parcel was nothing more than the biscuits that his friend had been finding excuses to give him ever since he was an elfling.

Mithrandir and Legolas continued on to the stable, where they found Estel currying his horse. "It is a pity," called Legolas, "that you do not care for your own mane as diligently as you care for that of your horse."

"I haven't got a mane," Estel protested.

"Then what is that stuff hanging over your eyes?"

With an exasperated puff of air, Estel blew his hair out of his eyes and continued currying his horse. Meanwhile, Legolas examined the hooves of his own horse and, satisfied, checked Mithrandir's horse as well. The wizard, standing on his dignity whilst simultaneously seated on a bale of hay, kept up a running commentary on Estel's progress.

"Missed a spot there, Estel."

"Where?"

"There."

"Where is there?"

"There is there."

"I _know_ that."

"Then why did you ask me?"

"Because I want to know where there _is_."

"But I thought we agreed that _there_ is there."

"But where is the there that is there?"

"Estel, I don't follow you at all. You are not making one whit of sense."

Estel rolled his eyes and decided to simply rebrush the area that he had been currying when Mithrandir had critiqued his efforts. Mithrandir now turned his attention to Legolas.

"Missed a spot there, Legolas."

Legolas knew better than to answer. He simply lifted the horse's hoof he had just been examining and examined it anew. Disappointed that the Elf had not taken the bait, Mithrandir jammed his hat on his head and went outside to smoke his pipe.

"How far do you think we will journey today?" Estel asked after Mithrandir had left the stable.

"Not far at all if you do not finish saddling your horse," Legolas retorted.

Estel tightened his horse's girth. "Done!" he proclaimed.

The two friends led the horses outside to where Mithrandir awaited them, and all three mounted their steeds. Just then Elrohir and Elladan came around the corner.

"Aren't you two supposed to be abed recovering from your injuries?" harrumphed Mithrandir.

"No matter how severe our wounds," Elrohir replied, trying to look solemn, "we could not allow our brothers to depart without bidding them farewell."

Mithrandir snorted. "I'll warrant you scamps did not stroll out through the front door of the House of Healing," he grumbled.

"The window affords a more direct route," Elladan replied airily, "and as we have been injured, we thought it best to conserve our strength by taking no more steps than necessary."

Mithrandir shook his head, grumbling into his beard, and then he and his two companions rode off, with Estel and Legolas twisting about on their horses to exchange waves with the twins.

After the travelers had passed from sight, Elladan and Elrohir hurried back to the House of Healing, hoping to regain their room before their father came to check on them.

"It will be so boring around here until Legolas and Estel return," Elladan complained as he climbed back in at the window.

"Don't worry, brother," Elrohir consoled him as they resettled themselves in their beds. "No foes have been found between here and Bree, so Legolas and Estel's journey needs must be both uneventful and brief. Soon they will be riding back up to the Hall, and we shall celebrate with some great jape or another."

Confident in the truth of Elrohir's words, the twins fell back asleep. Equally confident, Legolas and Estel rode cheerfully in Mithrandir's wake. As for the wizard, he had never had the confidence of youth—seemingly never having had a youth at all—so his spirits were not as lively as those of his companions. It would soon be seen whether Mithrandir's caution or Legolas and Estel's confidence would prove to be the attitude more in keeping with the times.


	2. Chapter 2: Walkabout

**My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.**

**This story should be considered part of "The Nameless One" series because in it Legolas is referred to as Elrond's foster son. It is set after Legolas's reunion with Thranduil, so Legolas goes by his proper name rather than by Anomen. Legolas has come back to visit Rivendell at a point at which Estel is a late adolescent. **

**I would like to thank the following reviewers of Chapter 1 of **_**Bravely unto Breeland**_**: **_**invisigoth, leralonde,**__** CAH, BeeGee, Pghj2005, Elfinabottle, **_**and **_**Ne'ith5**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you unless you have disabled the private messaging feature. (****Please notice that the fanfiction site has changed its system so that responses to reviews go out via the private messaging feature. That is why the people who have disabled that feature did not hear back from me****.) **

**This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of **_**The Hobbit **_**and**_** The Lord of the Rings**_**. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as **_**The Silmarillion**_**. **

**Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for **_**Parallel Quest**_**, but shorter pieces like this are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.**

**Chapter 2: Walkabout **

Mithrandir twisted in his saddle and looked back at Estel and Legolas, who had their heads together as much as they could without coming out of their saddles, so to speak (Legolas having opted to ride bareback). "Now, I wonder what those two scamps are up to," he muttered to himself. "They had better not pull any pranks on _my_ watch. If they do, they shall find that Erestor's penalties are trivial compared to the ones that _I_ shall exact."

It was not the case, however, that Mithrandir's young companions were planning mischief. Legolas was merely holding forth on the beauty of the maidens in Lothlórien. Since his acknowledgement as Thranduil's son, the young Elf had had several opportunities to visit the realm of Galadriel and Celeborn, and the maidens of the Golden Valley had been very hospitable to the young prince.

"You must go there someday, Estel," Legolas enthused. "You will be very well received, I am sure. You know that our foster-sister lives there, don't you?"

Estel had heard Elladan and Elrohir mention something to that effect, but he hadn't paid attention then, and he didn't pay attention now. He wanted to hear about his friends Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin.

"Ada said Lord Celeborn reported in his last letter that there had been a skirmish on the southern border of Lothlórien and that Haldir and his brothers fought in it. Did Ada show you the letter?" Estel asked eagerly. "Did it describe the deeds of our friends—their courage, their skill?"

"Ada showed me the letter," Legolas answered, "but it did not describe the individual actions of any of the participants in the battle."

"Then Lord Celeborn wrote no more than that the skirmish had taken place?"

"Oh, he wrote a little more than that—the time of the battle, the lay of the land, the weather conditions, the number of warriors on each side, the weaponry and tactics of the enemy."

"But no description of the deeds of the warriors?" Estel said in a disappointed voice.

"I think Celeborn gave a very thorough accounting of that which it is needful to know about one battle in order to plan for the next one. As for the exploits of individual warriors, they may be celebrated in song and poetry, but there is little call for them to be included in the dispassionate account of a battle sent from one lord to another."

"Then I am glad that I shall have to neither read nor write such dull missives," Estel declared.

"Oh, but you shall!" Legolas exclaimed.

Here Mithrandir reined up his horse and cleared his throat. Legolas's face colored, and the young Elf waited for the scolding that he knew he deserved. Always before, when he spoke too freely about Estel's prospects, he had been chided. Today, however, Mithrandir spoke no word of reproof. "Legolas is right," the wizard called. "Estel, you shall both read and write such missives."

Mithrandir's young companions looked surprised, and the wizard was tempted to give way to a most unwizardly grin. Instead, he assumed an expression of sage solemnity. "Estel," he intoned, "I believe it is time that you knew more of your parentage. When we return from our journey, you must ask Elrond to tell you your genealogy."

"Cannot you tell me, Mithrandir?"

"Elrond is your kinsman. He knows it best."

"He is a distant relative, yes, but I am sure you know my parentage as well as he. You make it your business to know that sort of thing."

"Estel, Elrond is your distant relative in terms of years, but you must understand that you are descended from his brother Elros."

Again Estel looked surprised. "So our relationship is quite close!"

"Yes. Many centuries have passed, and on the human side, many generations, but in Elrond's eyes you are but one remove from his twin brother."

"And is it my kinship with Elrond that dictates that someday I must needs read and write tiresome missives?"

"When that time comes, I do not think you will find them tiresome," Mithrandir said wryly. "Howsomever, it is your human descent that will lay that burden upon your shoulders."

"Then tell me of my human ancestors," Estel demanded.

Mithrandir shook his head. "Nay, you must ask Elrond. I have told you too much already, for it is your foster-father who should tell you the tale."

Mithrandir flicked his reins and rode on, and Legolas and Estel again fell in behind him. Legolas tried to resume their light-hearted bantering, but Estel would have none of it. Legolas could tell that his friend and foster-brother was pondering Mithrandir's words. On occasion Estel had asked his mother and his foster-father to tell him of his parentage, but always they had put him off. Now, however, Mithrandir's words had made him keen to know the truth.

'I am called Estel', the young Man thought to himself, 'but I know I was called something before that'.

Estel had been two when Orcs slew his father, and he could barely remember his arrival in Rivendell, where his mother had taken him to be fostered by Elrond. Legolas, however, always assured him that his debut had been a memorable one.

"Within days of your arrival," the Elf told him, "you tried to ride Glorfindel's great horse and you wandered off and were swept away by the Bruinen. _I _had to rescue you both times."

Estel had always laughed at Legolas's droll accounts of his early days in Rivendell, but now he pushed these tales aside and concentrated on remembering who he was. 'Ara—my name began with Ara', he said to himself after struggling with his memory for a time.

Estel continued to cudgel his brains, but he could not get past those two syllables. At last he despaired of the effort and began to idly recite the names of the chieftains of the Dúnedain, a list Erestor had insisted he commit to memory, along with the genealogies of the Kings and High-Kings of Arnor and the Kings of Arthedain. Estel had spent many a tiresome hour laboring over these lists. Lately, however, he had taken to reciting the genealogies whenever his spirits were roiled, the assonance at the beginning of each name somehow soothing his spirits. 'Aranarth', he murmured now. 'Arahael, Aranuir, Aravir, Aragorn I'. He paused to brush his hair out of his eyes.** '**Araglas', the young Man continued. 'Arahad I, Aragost**,** Aravorn, Arahad II**,** Arassuil**,** Arathorn I, Argonui**,** Arador**,** Arathorn II. And here ends the line of the Chieftains of the Dúnedain. Now, that is odd. There two Arahads and two Arathorns, but there is no Aragorn the Second. Why is Aragorn called "the First" when there is no Aragorn the Second?'

For a moment he puzzled over this new question, but then he suddenly reined up his horse. He had a vision of a grubby urchin grandly proclaiming to a rabble of grinning Dunlendings that he was Aragorn son of Arathorn.

"Why do you stop, Estel?" called Legolas, who had continued on ahead.

The young Man flicked his reins and urged his horse alongside that of his friend.

"Legolas, do you remember the day that I was swept away by the Bruinen?"

Legolas smiled fondly. "Of course I remember! I had to pry you out of the hands of a band of Dunlending hunters. You strolled right into the midst of their camp, and they carried you off. No doubt they meant to adopt you, for there was a dearth of children in their land."

"I remember that," Estel said excitedly. "Weren't you bald at the time?"

Legolas grimaced. "Oh, do not remind me of that!" He fingered a braid, rolling his eyes as he remembered how Elrond had had to shave his head because the twins had poured a vat of tar upon him.

"And I stank, for I had tried to grab hold of a polecat," Estel went on.

"Say rather that you stank more than usual," Legolas teased.

Estel ignored the time-worn gibe.

"I remember the Dunlendings," he continued. "I remember that you were bald. I remember that I stank. Would you not say that other things I remember from that day are likely to be the truth?"

"I suppose that would be the case," Legolas agreed.

Estel lowered his voice. "Then I know who I am."

"Do not speak of it," Legolas said quickly. "It would mean much to your foster-father if he were the one to tell you."

"_You_ have known my name all these years," Estel observed. "And you kept it from me," he added, wondering whether he ought to feel resentment at the subterfuge.

"I was pledged to keep you secret and keep you safe. That meant not uttering your name in the presence of anyone who might repeat it—and a little boy, lacking discretion, was just the sort of person who _would_ repeat it!"

And he _had_ repeated it, Estel thought ruefully. Luckily, the name must have meant nothing to the Dunlendings. The young Man looked at his friend and smiled.

"Legolas, thank you for keeping me secret and keeping me safe—even from myself!"

"You must continue secret," Legolas warned. "Elrond will tell you the tale because you will soon be of age and it is your right to know the truth. But the reason for hiding your existence remains unaltered. There are some who would see you dead—if they knew that you lived!"

Estel nodded soberly. Erestor had insisted that the human verse himself in the history of Arnor and Gondor. Thus, when the words 'Aragorn son of Arathorn' sprang into his head, he had understood their significance at once.

'I am Isildur's Heir', he said to himself. 'Now I see how it is. The hours that Erestor forced me to pore over maps and chronicles of distant lands. The practice in the Westron tongue. The study of genealogies. Yes, now I understand."

As he considered the significance of his discovery, Estel felt both excitement and apprehension—excitement because the scope of his world was suddenly much enlarged beyond the boundaries of Rivendell, apprehension because he knew that much more would be expected of him than he had always assumed. Growing up in Elrond's household, Estel had always understood that he was meant to be a scout and a warrior, but he had believed that his foster-father intended that he should take his place in one of the companies that patrolled the border of Imladris. Now he realized that Elrond had been envisioning a future for him that would take him well beyond Rivendell.

Legolas watched Estel ponder his future, and he was glad that Estel now knew who he was—but he also felt a bit melancholy. 'I suppose', he said to himself, 'that Estel will be less interested in jaunting about with his foster-brothers. He will be too keen on ascending to greater heights'.

'Do you fear the loss of Estel's love?' came a voice. Legolas startled. He had not realized that Galadriel was listening in. Of course, it was true that nobody ever expected the Lady's inquisition.

'I do not fear the loss of his love, my Lady', Legolas replied. 'I fear the loss of his company'.

'It is true that Estel will spend many years in solitary journeys', Galadriel replied, 'but he will always welcome your friendship'.

'And not all his journeys will be solitary', Gandalf interjected. 'The day will come when you shall travel far in company with Estel, I deem'.

'Not if my father has anything to say about the matter', Legolas replied gloomily. 'I am lucky he allowed me to travel to Rivendell'.

'Once it was a struggle to persuade him to allow you to travel to Lothlórien', Galadriel reminded him. 'Now he allows you to make the journey readily enough'.

Before Legolas could reply, Estel unwittingly interrupted the conversation. "Legolas," he said softly, "a deer has crossed this path only a little while ago. We carry jerked venison, but we ought to hold that in reserve. Let us go aside from the path and try to bring down that deer."

The two begged Mithrandir's leave, which he readily granted, for like his young friends he preferred fresh venison whenever possible.

The three travelers dismounted. Leaving Mithrandir to make camp, Estel and Legolas entered the forest. Stooping, Estel read the signs whilst Legolas kept his bow at the ready. Suddenly Estel crouched down. "There," he whispered, "past those brambles. See where it drinks from the rill?"

Legolas inched forward and slowly drew back his bowstring. Then he lowered his bow and crouched beside his friend.

"Why do you not take the shot, Legolas?" Estel whispered. "It is a buck and fair game in this season."

"We are not alone in the forest," Legolas whispered back. There was a sudden 'thwock' and the sound of an arrow whirring through the air. The stag leaped, staggered, and fell. It was a good shot. The deer thrashed a few minutes and then lay still. Three Men emerged from the forest, the foremost holding a bow. They laughed and spoke loudly.

"They are not from hereabouts," whispered Estel. "That is a southern tongue."

"You are certain?"

"Erestor has drummed every mannish dialect into my head," Estel replied.

The two young scouts remained crouched, observing as the foreigners skinned and butchered the deer. To the friends' surprise, more Men emerged from the forest. Soon eleven Men stood watching as the three original Men completed the butchering of the deer.

"Do you suppose they are traders?" Estel asked.

Legolas shook his head. "If they were traders, the most of them would have made camp by the road while a few went in to the forest to hunt."

"True," agreed Estel, "and they are well armed for traders. Each carries either a bow or a sword."

"We had better keep watch, then."

"Yes," said Estel, "but one of us must return to Mithrandir and tell him of these Men."

"You go, Estel."

"No," Estel said decisively. "I will take the first watch."

Legolas hesitated. He had been in skirmishes; Estel had not. Still, the young Man was not going to engage the Men in battle. He was simply going to remain hidden and track the strangers' movements.

"Very well," the Elf agreed. "I will return to Mithrandir. But you must promise not to approach these Men."

"I am not a child, Legolas," Estel bristled. "Why would I do anything so foolish?"

What could Legolas say in reply to Estel's challenge? That Estel was young and that the young oft behave rashly? His friend could throw that claim in Legolas's teeth, for the Elf, too, was young in the eyes of his people. Indeed, it could be said that the two friends were of an age, both passing from adolescence to young manhood.

"Very well," Legolas repeated. He wished that he could reach out and enter into Mithrandir's mind to alert him to his dilemma, but it seemed he could communicate with Mithrandir in that fashion only when the wizard initiated the conversation. The young Elf knew that when he had fully matured he would have the same mental powers as those possessed by Elrond and Galadriel, but for now he could not control the gift of telepathy.

Unable to communicate with Mithrandir, Legolas nodded at his friend and quietly slipped away to backtrack toward their camp. A short while later, he broke from cover and found the wizard enjoying a cup of tea, a beverage that the Istar had come to appreciate (along with pipeweed) whilst visiting a land inhabited by little people with feet so furry that they did not need to wear shoes. Today, however, Legolas did not dwell upon the quaint peoples and customs that Mithrandir had encountered on his journeys. "Mithrandir," he said urgently, "in the forest are hidden fourteen Men—strangers from the south!"

The wizard dropped his cup and sprang to his feet. "Where is Estel?" he cried.

"Safe," replied Legolas. "Estel is safe."

"Where _is_ he?" the wizard repeated, eyebrows bristling in their most formidable fashion.

"He is keeping watch," Legolas replied, "to mark their movements."

"And why, pray tell, was it necessary for him to keep watch?" the wizard growled. "Surely it would have been easy enough to return and pick up the trail of a band of fourteen Men—folk who are not lightfooted like Elves and who trample vegetation like wild boars."

Suddenly Legolas understood that in judgment he was indeed as young as Estel. It was never wise to split one's forces unless absolutely necessary—and it had _not_ been absolutely necessary. The two of them, together, should have returned to report to Mithrandir. The young Elf blushed and dropped his eyes.

"Well, well," said Mithrandir, suddenly altering his manner when he saw how his young friend had taken his scolding to heart. "I am sure that Estel will come to no harm. Now then, Legolas, I am pledged to meet Radagast the Brown at an inn in Bree, and so I shall. Meanwhile, it seems that you and Estel shall be off having an adventure. Good-bye!"

The wizard bent down to retrieve his cup and kettle and tossed them into his saddlebag. "Be a good fellow and see that the fire is quite out," he called over his shoulder as he mounted his horse. And then, as Legolas watched astonished, the Istar galloped off, within minutes rounding a bend in the road and vanishing from sight.

The young Elf stood bewildered for several minutes after the wizard's disappearance. 'What will Elrond say', he wondered, 'when he learns that Mithrandir has left us to our own devices? For Elrond only allowed us to leave Rivendell because he thought we would be in Mithrandir's hands'.

Suddenly Legolas suspected that in this matter Mithrandir and Elrond might be at cross purposes. 'Elrond is desirous that both Estel and I gain more experience', the young Elf thought to himself, 'but our foster-father would never have permitted us to leave Imladris unescorted lest we get into a truly serious scrape, as Elrohir and Elladan have lately done. Mithrandir, however, would have us prove ourselves—_truly_ prove ourselves, without Mithrandir or Glorfindel or any other minder on hand to protect us from the consequences of our own missteps. He has lessoned me one last time that I needs must be careful, and persuaded that I have heeded his words, he departs so that we may manage this matter on our own'.

Legolas remembered Mithrandir describing to Elrond how the folk of one nation would send each youngster alone into the wild to make the passage from adolescence to adulthood. 'Mithrandir said they called it a walkabout', Legolas said to himself. "Very well. This shall be our walkabout. It is true we are not entirely alone, for we may rely one upon the other. Still, our mentors are nowhere to be found'.

As he spoke, Legolas began to feel exhilarated. In Mirkwood the young prince was everywhere accompanied by a retinue. Even in Lothlórien and Imladris , he was well guarded. He was never far from the voice or reach of another.

Grinning, Legolas smothered the fire. Next he went to the horses and spoke softly to them, telling them to graze where they would but to come at his call. with the horses at liberty, Legolas sorted through the saddlebags, taking a few necessary items and hiding everything else beneath a log. Then he retraced his steps to the spot where he had parted from Estel.

Estel was no longer there. The Men had departed, and Estel was trailing them. Legolas began to follow his friend's path, which was easy to descry, for every few yards the young Man had broken a branch at waist height. Of course, even if Estel had not left these signs, the trail would have been easy to pick out, for the Men were trampling the vegetation as if they were a herd of oliphaunts. Still, the broken branches served to signal to Legolas that his friend was well.

On and on the trail went. At last Legolas saw that the trees were thinning. He was approaching a glade. Cautiously, he crept up to the edge of this open space. There he froze. Ahead, in the middle of the glade, lay a body. Face down, arms askew, its hair matted with blood, the corpse had already attracted a swarm of flies, and as Legolas stared, horrified, the first vulture spiraled down to perch upon the body.


	3. Chapter 3: A Bird in the Hand

**My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.**

**This story should be considered part of "The Nameless One" series because in it Legolas is referred to as Elrond's foster son. It is set after Legolas's reunion with Thranduil, so Legolas goes by his proper name rather than by Anomen. Legolas has come back to visit Rivendell at a point at which Estel is a late adolescent. **

**I would like to thank the following reviewers of Chapter 2 of **_**Bravely unto Breeland**_**: **_**invisigoth3, leralonde, **_**and **_**CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you unless you have disabled the private messaging feature. (****Please notice that the fanfiction site has changed its system so that responses to reviews go out via the private messaging feature. That is why the people who have disabled that feature did not hear back from me****.) **

**This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of **_**The Hobbit **_**and**_** The Lord of the Rings**_**. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as **_**The Silmarillion**_**. **

**Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for **_**Parallel Quest**_**, but shorter pieces like this one are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.**

**Chapter 3: A Bird in the Hand**

Legolas choked back the bile that rose in his throat and forced himself to approach the corpse. As he did so, the vulture stooped, its neck stretched and wings spread in an attempt to lay claim to the carcass. Legolas drew his knife and stood as tall as he could, trying to look more threatening than he felt. The vulture opened its beak and beat its wings. Legolas made slashing motions and continued to advance upon the vulture. The scavenger began to back away. Legolas lowered his arm and addressed the bird. "There is some deer offal in a glade near the Great East Road," he said. The vulture bobbed its head as if it understood the young Elf's words and rose upon its mighty wings, heading in the direction of the road.

Legolas sheathed his knife and knelt by the body. From the moment he had spied it, he had known it was not Estel, for the body was not clad in elvish garments. Was it one of the Southrons, slain by his fellows? Carefully Legolas turned the body over and examined it. The Man's throat had been cut. He was not a foreigner, for he was dressed in clothes like those worn by the Men of Breeland. Nearby were a bow and a quiver and a pack. The pack had been rifled, its contents scattered on the ground. Flint, steel, a small whetstone, a water skin. The sort of objects carried by a hunter.

Legolas sat back on his heels and considered. The slain Man had been in pursuit of game and had had the misfortune to encounter the Southrons, and they had murdered him. Perhaps they had not wanted their presence to be reported to any villagers who lived hereabouts. That would be in keeping with the fact that they were concealing themselves in the forest and not following the Great East Road as peace-loving travelers would.

Suddenly Legolas sensed that someone or something drew near. He was in the middle of a glade that offered no concealment. Quickly he threw himself down beside the body and assumed a corpse-like stillness, with his hand on his knife hilt.

"It's only me, Legolas."

Legolas took a deep breath and sat up.

"You have given up trailing the Southrons?"

"They have stopped to make camp. I returned to see to the body."

"We haven't the tools to bury it, and we dare not burn it, for the Southrons might see the smoke."

"I know, but I thought we might at least pile brush and rocks over it. There is a creek not so very far away. Its bed would provide the rocks."

Estel took the Man's pack and went off to fill it with rocks. Meanwhile, Legolas examined the body for some tokens that could be used to identify the Man's body to his kinsmen. Around the Man's wrist was a bracelet of knotted twine from which dangled a few wooden beads. The pattern of beads and knots was irregular, as if the bracelet had been fashioned by a child. Legolas removed the bracelet from the Man's wrist and slipped it into his waist pouch. The Man's knife was missing from its sheath. Very likely this object was one of the few things that the Southrons felt was valuable enough to steal. The human's pouch lay beside him. Legolas picked it up, expecting it to be empty, but he felt a lump within it. He reached into the pouch and retrieved it. It was a carving of a bird, one side finished, the other side roughed out.

When Estel returned to the glade, Legolas was sitting cross-legged contemplating something that he held in his hands.

"What is that?" asked Estel.

"It was going to be a child's toy, I think," Legolas replied. He put the carving in his pouch and helped Estel wrap the body in one of their blankets. Then they placed the bow and the quiver beside the body and heaped brush over it, using the rocks to weigh down the branches.

"We do not have enough rocks," Legolas observed.

"I will fetch more," Estel said.

Legolas again sat cross-legged. He took the bird from his pouch and began to carefully whittle at the unfinished side. He set the toy down when Estel returned with more rocks but resumed his whittling when Estel went back to the creek for another packful.

After spreading the third load of rocks, the two friends retreated from the glade to shelter in a more protected place. As they rested, Legolas explained to Estel that Mithrandir had gone on to Bree, leaving them to decide on their own how to deal with the Southrons.

"They are evil Men, these Southrons," Estel said soberly. "I trailed them to the glade, where the Man had lain down his bow and was eating his lunch of bread and cheese. Smiling, they hailed him. He arose and returned their greetings, his hands held palm upward in a gesture of peace. Still smiling, the Southrons came forward, and when they were near enough, two of them seized the Man's arms while a third cut his throat. Then they rummaged through his pack and his pouch before departing, leaving his body to be despoiled by scavengers."

Yes, evil Men, and very dangerous. Legolas thought of Elladan and Elrohir, who had lately battled and defeated such a band. He shook his head. Both Elrond and Glorfindel had disapproved of the twins' actions. Moreover, Estel was with him. He had to see to Estel's safety.

"Estel, come morning we must retrieve our horses and return to Rivendell to alert our father to the presence of these Men."

"No, Legolas, we must not."

"Estel, Ada must be told. He will want to send out Glorfindel to deal with them."

"We must deal with them ourselves."

"Estel, you are being as foolish as a child!"

The moment Legolas uttered those words, he regretted them. Estel would surely be petulant at being reminded of his youth. But Estel proved Legolas wrong. "We must deal with them ourselves," the young Man said calmly, "because there is no time to warn our father quickly enough to avert a horrendous crime, one even worse than the one committed in yonder glade."

Estel spoke so earnestly that when he paused Legolas nodded at him to go on.

"Beyond the glade," Estel continued, "is a well-trodden path. The Southrons followed it until they drew near a village. Then they turned aside and set up a camp. They chose wood carefully so that their cook fire would give off no smoke. They glutted themselves with venison, and then they began to sharpen their swords and check the fletching of their arrows. I am certain that when it is full dark they mean to attack that village."

Legolas slipped a hand inside his pouch and fingered the bird where it lay next to the bracelet that had surely been fashioned by a child. He looked up at the waxing moon. They had several hours before it would set.

"We must go to the village and warn its folk," he said. "They are not warriors, but with a warning and our assistance, they may be able to defeat these raiders."

"Why do we not attack the camp ourselves?"

"We are only two. We could pick off several, but then they would pursue us."

"Even so, the Southrons would have to give over their plan of attacking the village. That would buy us time to do as you first wished—return to Rivendell to seek the aid of our own warriors."

"You are surely right," Legolas agreed, "that knowing themselves discovered they would abandon any plan of attacking the village. But they would merely remove to some other place, and another village would be destroyed and its people slaughtered. If we rally the folk in this village, we may not only save them, we may put an end to this threat altogether." Until the next band of raiders arrived, he added to himself. But what was it that Mithrandir was always saying? All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us? Yes, that was it. And what had been given to them, Legolas decided, was the opportunity to save this village.

As one, Estel and Legolas arose, and Estel led the way to the path. They followed this track until they had almost reached the Southron encampment, which they carefully skirted. Then they crept to the verge of the village. All was dark save for one cottage in whose window a lamp burned. Cautiously they approached it. Just as they reached it, the door was flung open and a woman emerged, her expression hopeful. When she saw the strangers, the joy vanished from her face, replaced by wariness. She took a step back and seized the handle of the door as if preparing to slam it shut. Legolas raised his hands palm upward. "Please, Aunt," he said, "we mean no harm. But there are those hereabouts that do. They have already slain one Man, and they are lurking nearby, weapons ready, preparing to attack this village."

When Legolas said that they had already slain one Man, the woman, who was already pale, turned ashen. "This Man," she whispered, "tell me about him."

Slowly Legolas pulled the bracelet from his pouch. "He wore this," he said softly.

The woman crumpled, and Legolas caught her as she fell. With Estel's help, he carried her into the cottage, where they found a small child huddled upon a bedstead. She scrambled off the bed and ran to her mother. "I thought it was Dada," she whimpered. "Why is it not Dada?"

The woman clutched at the child as Estel and Legolas helped her to the bed. Once she was upon it, her arms wrapped around her daughter, she suddenly grew fierce. "How came you by that bracelet?" she demanded. "Happens you slew him yourself?"

"No, Aunt," protested Legolas. "Would we have come to this village with the blood of one of its inhabitants upon our hands? Please, Aunt, summon your village headman, and we will lead him to where the murderers are encamped. He will see that you are in grave danger, and he will know what to do."

The woman stared intently at Legolas, and he met her gaze steadfastly. At last she nodded and arose. Wrapping her daughter in a shawl, she led Estel and Legolas to the house of the headman. It was a cottage only a little larger than the others in the village. At her insistent knocking, a light was lit within. "Who is it?" called a Man. "Mildryð," answered the woman. "My Leofwine is dead, and here are some folk come with news of his murder."

Estel and Legolas heard a bar being drawn, and a Man cautiously opened the door and peered out. "Murder? That cannot be so! Leofwine was a friend to everyone."

"To everyone hereabouts, yes," Legolas said. "But his murderers were strangers. Yonder lurks a band of Southrons. As we speak, they sharpen their swords. Come with us and we will show you their encampment."

The Man stared at him suspiciously. "An Elf," he muttered. "As much a stranger as any Southron. How do I know you don't mean to murder me as well?"

Estel suddenly spoke up. "If you would have surety, then I shall remain here a hostage," he declared. "If you do not return safe, your fellows may slay me."

"Nay, Estel," protested Legolas. "You know the location of the Southron camp as well as I do. You guide this Man whilst _I_ remain a hostage."

"You move more quietly than I," retorted Estel. "I should stay in the village."

"But you have seen their camp in daylight, and I have not."

Estel opened his mouth to reply yet again, but the Man gestured that they be silent. "I think," he said wryly, "that it is not necessary that either of you remain a hostage. So careful are you of each other's welfare that I do not believe it is within either of you to be a murderer."

He addressed the woman. "Mildryð, you and your Ælfgifu shelter within." He turned and spoke to a woman who had stood half hidden behind him. "Friðuswið, wake Hroðgar and tell him he must go round to every cottage and rouse the Men."

"You will be careful, my husband?" the woman said anxiously.

The Man shrugged dismissively. "It is not for nothing that my parents named me Rædwulf," he declared.

"The names that parents give children are naught but wishes," Friðuswið scoffed.

"Yet it is often the case that children grow into their names," Legolas said, "as is seen in this instance, for your husband is a wise-wolf indeed to trust our word. As for you, in this household you are doubtless the bringer of peace."

"So it is true what is said of the Elves," observed the woman, her lips quirking slightly. "They are Fair Folk for they speak fair."

"Enough speech, fair or foul," interrupted Estel. "These Men will attack as soon as it is full dark. The moon has passed its zenith and begins to descend toward the tree tops."

Heeding Estel's words, Legolas swiftly led Rædwulf into the forest. As they approached the Southron's camp, Estel took over and guided them to a spot from which he had observed the camp. As Legolas and Estel had feared, the Men were prepared for battle. Despite the lateness of the hour, the Southrons were booted, and not a single bedroll was spread out beneath the trees. "I have seen enough," Rædwulf said after observing the encampment for a little while. He made as if to slip back toward the village but suddenly swore softly and crouched down once more.

"I believed you," he whispered to Legolas, "and now I have seen something that will make my Men believe you as well. Look at that Southron who is carving a hunk of venison from that haunch. Look at the knife he wields."

Legolas looked carefully and saw that the hilt of the knife was carved in the shape of a bird's head.

"That was Leofwine's knife," Rædwulf said softly. "He had it of his father, who was a notable carver, a skill that he passed on to his son along with the knife. Leofwine would never have parted with that blade."

Somberly, the three slipped away from the encampment and turned their steps toward the village. It was time to make plans for the battle to come.


	4. Chapter 4: Elf Gift

**My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.**

**This story should be considered part of "The Nameless One" series because in it Legolas is referred to as Elrond's foster son. It is set after Legolas's reunion with Thranduil, so Legolas goes by his proper name rather than by Anomen. Legolas has come back to visit Rivendell at a point at which Estel is a late adolescent. **

**I would like to thank the following reviewers of Chapter 3 of **_**Bravely unto Breeland**_**: **_**invisigoth3, Ne'ith5, leralonde, **_**and **_**CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you unless you have disabled the private messaging feature. (****Please notice that the fanfiction site has changed its system so that responses to reviews go out via the private messaging feature. That is why the people who have disabled that feature have not heard back from me****.) **

**This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of **_**The Hobbit **_**and**_** The Lord of the Rings**_**. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as **_**The Silmarillion**_**. **

**Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for **_**Parallel Quest**_**, but shorter pieces like this one are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.**

**Chapter 4: ****Elf Gift**

When Estel, Legolas, and Rædwulf arrived back at the village, they found a small knot of Men standing silently before the headman's cottage. Only one lad was among them, Hroðgar, who, in keeping with his name, clutched a spear.

Faces impassive, the villagers stared at the two strangers. Rædwulf laid one hand on Estel's shoulder, the other on Legolas's. "These two led me to the murderers of Leofwine," he proclaimed.

"How do we know that the two are not themselves the murderers of Leofwine," a Man called suspiciously.

"I saw the proof," Rædwulf responded. "I saw a Southron cutting his food with Leofwine's knife."

The crowd murmured angrily. Another Man spoke. "Mildryð said the Elf spoke of a band. How many are there?"

"Fourteen," declared Estel, abruptly stepping forward.

The murmurs of anger were replaced by cries of dismay.

"Fourteen. All armed?" called another Man.

"Aye, well-armed with bows and swords. And they are practiced with them. They are raiders, not traders."

"We must flee," cried a Man. "We shall all be slaughtered."

"Flee?" said Rædwulf. "To where shall we flee? To the forest? To be fugitives in our own land? To furtively glean what we can whilst our children huddle without shelter?"

"We can build shelters," argued one of his Men.

"Then how shall your plight differ from what it is now?" Estel said boldly. "If you settle in one place, you will have done naught but build another village that may be attacked even as this one will be attacked. Will you abandon that village, too, again leaving behind crops and cottages?"

The Man stood silent, looking at one another uneasily. "But you have said that they are warriors," one said at last. "As you see, we are only a few able-bodied Men, and while some of us are hunters, none of us are warriors."

"You will have the advantage of surprise," Legolas said. "These Southrons will enter your village overconfident, for they do not expect resistance. Moreover, even the agéd Men and the boys may play a part in the defense of this village."

"This is wise counsel," declared Rædwulf. "Let Hroðgar summon the grandfathers and the lads."

Hroðgar raced off, and soon the space in front of headman's house was filled with Men of all ages.

"Look how many we are," proclaimed Rædwulf. "Each one of us may be weak, but together we are strong." He turned to Legolas. "You have a plan, Master Elf?"

"Yes. First, send the woman and the children out of the village. Let them take nothing but their lives and flee north, for the Southron camp is to the south. Tell them to make for the Great East Road."

"And then we shall establish a perimeter around the camp," the headman said fiercely. "We shall not allow the raiders to enter our village."

"We shall establish a perimeter," said Legolas, "but we _will_ allow the raiders to enter."

Rædwulf stared confusedly at him for a minute, and then the Man grinned.

"I understand your plan, Master Elf. You would position our Men in the woods and allow the raiders to pass through the line. Our enemies will be clustered in the center, and we will fire into our foes. Yes, that is much preferable to _our_ being in the center."

Legolas grinned back at the Man. "My friend, you _are_ a wise-wolf. Let everyone take to the trees, with bow and spear—the young ones with rocks. When all the raiders have passed through our line, give the signal. Should any of your foes survive the first volley, they may try to return fire, but they will be in the open, and you hidden by the foliage. Truly, I think your folk can win this battle."

Swiftly Rædwulf gave commands. The woman and children fled the village, not stopping to gather any possessions, and the Men and strong lads swarmed into the trees. Rædwulf went around the perimeter, making certain that his folk were evenly spaced. Then he climbed a tree to the right of Legolas. In a tree to the Elf's left crouched Rædwulf's son Hroðgar, bravely clutching his spear.

Patiently the Men waited. The Moon had been in the top of the trees, and at length it crept down to the ground and hid itself behind distant hills. In its absence, the stars gleamed brighter. Their glow dimly lit the village square, but their light was not enough to penetrate beneath the boughs of the trees. But the darkness did not dampen the night noises. The Southrons moved without speech, but they were no Elves. Under their heavy boots pebbles rolled, leaves rustled, and twigs snapped. Alerted by these noises, Legolas and the Men watched for shadows within the shadows—shadows that moved. They watched as, wraith-like, the raiders, swords drawn, slipped past the hidden watchers and emerged into the village. The Southrons raised their weapons high, preparing to rush into the cottages and slaughter the sleeping inhabitants. Suddenly, a wolf howled. Instantly, dozens of wolves answered.

For a moment, the startled Southrons froze, and several amongst them never moved muscle again. For as the howls died down, the air filled with missiles—arrow, spear, and rock. Some of the Southrons tried to return fire, but while they could not see their foes, they themselves were in the open, and the stars betrayed them. Indeed, to Legolas, it seemed as if the Star of Eärendil suddenly flared and gleamed as brightly as the moon. One beam in particular sought out a Southron as he drew a knife from his sheath and rushed toward the forest, hoping to reach its shelter and engage the enemy hand to hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw Hroðgar bring back his arm to fling his spear. The missile struck the Southron square in the chest, and the raider fell upon his face, the spear shaft breaking beneath him.

So successful was the ambush that the skirmish was over in minutes. Legolas, Estel, and the villagers climbed down from the trees and began to check the bodies of their foes. The one slain by Hroðgar still clutched a knife in his hand. Rædwulf pried open the Southron's fist and held up the knife for all to see. "Leofwine's knife," he proclaimed. The Men murmured in satisfaction. Rædwulf addressed his son. "Hroðgar, Leofwine had no son, so this blade is now yours. It comes to you in requital of the vengeance you have exacted on Leofwine's behalf. Possessing it, you are now the guarantor and protector of Leofwine's daughter."

The Men shouted their approval. As for Hroðgar, he turned as red as a Troll caught in the first flush of dawn (before turning irrevocably to stone, of course).

"Hroðgar probably wasn't expecting to be engaged so soon," Legolas whispered to Estel.

"Engaged? He has been engaged?"

"Yes, Rædwulf has just promised that Mildryð and Ælfgifu will be looked after by his family, and when Ælfgifu comes of age, Hroðgar will marry her."

"Legolas, how old do you reckon Hroðgar is?"

"About twelve, I should say."

"And Ælfgifu?"

"Six or seven. For Men hereabouts, that gap in years between husband and wife is not unusual. By the time Ælfgifu reaches maturity, Hroðgar will be a man in the eyes of these villagers, and the families will unite in marriage. It is a good match on both sides. Ælfgifu and her mother will be protected by the headman, and Ælfgifu's dowry will be a generous one, for it will consist of the land that was once farmed by her father and that will be now farmed by Hroðgar—with his father's help, of course, for even though he is a bold lad, twelve is overly young to take on all the tasks involved in the upkeep of a freehold."

Estel looked over to where Hroðgar, still red-faced, was receiving the congratulations of the villagers.

"I am older than Hroðgar," he mused, "but _I_ am not engaged."

"Do you _want_ to be engaged?"

"No," Estel said quickly. "Although," he added, "I suppose someday I _shall_."

"When that happens," Legolas said dryly, "I expect you will have to slay more than one Southron to seal the marriage contract."

Their matrimonial banter was interrupted by the approach of Rædwulf. "My friends," he declared happily, "you must rest in Mildryð and Ælfgifu's cottage whilst my folk prepare a feast."

Estel and Legolas gratefully accepted the offer. Messengers were sent to recall the women and children, and Men slaughtered sheep and dressed the carcasses. Legolas and Estel, meanwhile, retired to the cottage, where Estel threw himself upon the bedstead and fell asleep at once. Legolas, however, resumed whittling upon the wooden bird. At last, satisfied, he placed the toy upon the cottage's sole table. Beside it he placed the little parcel of biscuits that the Cook had given him. Then he threw himself upon the bedstead beside his friend and fell asleep instantly.

Several hours later, he was awakened by a familiar voice. "Well, well," the voice rumbled. "You and Estel seem to have managed matters right—as I knew you would."

Legolas sat up abruptly. "Mithrandir!" he cried. "You have returned from Bree so soon?"

"In truth," replied the wizard, "I never made it to Bree. I encountered Radagast on the road, and the two of us turned back. When we reached the spot where you and I parted, we came upon a band of women and children fleeing a skirmish. Radagast and I decided to escort them back to their village, and we have arrived just in time for a feast, seemingly."

By now Estel was also awake, rubbing at his eyes. "Mithrandir!" he cried. "You have returned from Bree so soon?"

The wizard rolled his eyes. "Two peas in a pod," he muttered, "regardless that one has pointy ears. Well, Estel, how do you find the maidens hereabouts? Have you a mind to be engaged yet?"

"Oh, no," exclaimed Estel. "I haven't come near accounting for a sufficient number of Southrons."

"Ah, so that is the bride price nowadays, Southrons—Orcs being at a discount, I suppose."

Estel and Legolas had arisen from the bedstead by now, and they accompanied Mithrandir outside the cottage. There they found the village children clustered around Radagast, who was pulling creatures from his garments and allowing the youngsters to gently pet them. An owl perched upon one of his shoulders, a squirrel upon the other. As Legolas and Estel watched, he drew a tiny hedgehog from a pouch. "See you stroke it in the direction of the quills," the wizard warned. "He won't like it if you stroke him in the opposite direction—nor you won't like it, neither!"

Radagast handed the tiny creature to an awestruck little boy, who took it very carefully. Then he drew forth a mourning dove from some hidden fold and handed it to Ælfgifu. Child and bird both cooed, the one soothing the other.

Mildryð and Friðuswið approached bearing platters and pitchers, and they gently shooed the children away. Whilst they did so, Radagast reclaimed his creatures. As the last lad retreated, Radagast snatched off his cap, where the child had hidden a mouse. "Clever lad," said the wizard as he retrieved the little rodent. "Happens that this mouse prefers headgear," Radagast continued, lifting up his own pointed hat and depositing the tiny creature in his hair before clapping the hat back upon his head.

Legolas and Estel both nodded solemnly. They would save the giggling for later, when neither Mithrandir nor Radagast was by, for it wouldn't do to grin at the antics of a wizard. Instead, they turned their energy toward doing justice to the food and drink that Mildryð and Friðuswið had placed before them.

Both Legolas and Estel found the mutton to have quite a strong flavor, but they were very hungry and moreover did not wish to offend their hosts. The cheese was more to their liking, although they again had to stifle giggles when they noticed that from time to time Radagast would poke tiny pieces of cheese underneath his hat's crown. The wizard also kept dropping bread crusts in various pockets. "Radagast is a walking dining hall," Estel whispered after a little while. "Mess hall," Legolas whispered back. "Emphasis on the _mess_. I don't think all his white hairs are the result of age."

Estel couldn't help grinning at that, but Mithrandir caught his eye and frowned at him. Quickly, the young Man reassumed a sober expression, gravely complimenting the women for the excellent repast.

After the feast, Mithrandir, Radagast, Estel, and Legolas joined the villagers around a bonfire. Men told tales and sang ballads, and Radagast once again allowed the children to carefully handle his animal and bird friends. As for Mithrandir, he lit his pipe, and soon his smoke creatures joined Radagast's creatures of feather and fur in enthralling the children.

"Mithrandir," Legolas said softly as he sat next to his mentor, "are you not afraid that Elrond will be angry when he learns that you left Estel and me to our own devices."

"Oh, I knew you should come out unscathed."

"That is all very well for _you_," Legolas retorted, "but _we_ didn't know that."

"Of course not," replied the wizard insouciantly. "What kind of test would it have been if _you_ had known that everything would turn out well?"

Legolas saw that there was sense in what Mithrandir said. The worth of any 'courage' that they might have shown would have been debased had they known there was nothing to be frightened of in the first place. And there _had_ been reason to be frightened. Legolas had spoken bravely to the villagers, assuring them that the battle could be won, but all along the Elf had been hiding his fear that the Men, novices at warfare, would waver and break ranks, thus imperiling not only their lives but the lives of Estel and Legolas. But led by Rædwulf the Wise Wolf, the pack of Men had held fast, defeating the enemy.

For the time being, that is. Rædwulf came to sit by Mithrandir, and to the disappointment of the children, the wizard put aside his pipe to talk to him.

"You have destroyed this one band of raiders," Mithrandir said to the headman, "but I deem that more and more of this treacherous folk will make the journey north in hopes of easy pickings." He spoke so softly that only Legolas overheard this speech.

"I reckon you are right," Rædwulf replied, equally softly, "but what are we to do? That lad Estel spoke the truth when he said it would do no good to remove from this place. No matter where we settle, we may be attacked by wicked Men who covet the poor possessions that we have won by the sweat of our brow."

"There is safety in numbers. You might dwell in a place more thickly inhabited."

"Thickly inhabited? Aye, well, there's the rub. Folks what already dwell in such places are not likely to look kindly upon late-comers, for there is only so much water and woods and wold to be doled out amongst the people. At best, we might be permitted to take possession of wastelands that have been scorned by others because the soil is thin or poorly watered. No, my friend, we must remain in this village and farm the lands our forefathers farmed."

"If you are resolved to do so, then you must take steps to make this settlement more secure."

Rædwulf considered. "Now I give thought to that, Master Wizard, I see what we must do. We used the forest to our advantage last night, but it cannot be denied that, had your young friends not warned us about the raiders, the advantage would have been theirs. Under cover of the trees, they should have reached the village entirely undetected. Henceforth we must not allow any trees to grow within bowshot of our settlement. My Men shall cut back the forest to that point and a little beyond. With the felled trees, we shall then erect a palisade, with platforms upon which archers may stand to fire upon any foe so foolish as to try to cross the clearing."

"Excellent! And sentries—you must have sentries. Neither clearing nor palisade will do you any good if your enemies can stroll up to the wall undetected and toss grappling hooks o'er the top."

"True. Each night I shall see that four watchers are stationed upon the parapet—north, south, east, and west."

Mithrandir nodded vigorously. Legolas could see that he was very pleased. Soon after this conversation, Rædwulf bade them good night. It was late, and families had begun to drift toward their dwellings. Estel and Legolas—now accompanied by Mithrandir and Radagast—were to again have the use of Mildryð and Ælfgifu's cottage. The Istari took the bedstead, of course, leaving Estel and Legolas to spread their blankets upon the floor. "Privilege of age," Mithrandir said grandly, leaving Legolas to wonder—and not for the first time—how old the wizard really was.

As they were preparing to sleep, Ælfgifu came shyly to the door, sent to fetch some articles of clothing. Mithrandir kindly bade that she should enter. The little girl took several cautious steps and halted. "What is it, child?" the wizard asked encouragingly. Ælfgifu pointed at the table, where the whittled bird perched beside the parcel of biscuits.

"'Tis a gift from your father," Legolas offered.

The little girl crossed to the table. Picking up the bird, she cradled it in her arms as if it were the most precious object in the world. Still shy, she nevertheless favored Legolas with a small smile.

"That parcel is for you as well," Legolas said.

"From my father?"

"No, that one is from me."

"My name means 'Elf gift', and now I have got an Elf gift," the little girl said thoughtfully. "I wonder what my Mama will say."

"That you are well named and are a gift yourself," Legolas replied. "Now you had best return to your Nana, for it is long past your bedtime, I reckon."

The little girl retrieved the garments she had been sent to fetch, and with the bird and parcel balanced atop the bundle, she departed, favoring Legolas with one last smile as she went out the door.

"Those biscuits were well bestowed, Legolas," Mithrandir commented after she had left.

"How do you know that biscuits are in that parcel?" Legolas asked.

"I recognize the Cook's handiwork," the wizard replied.

"And I recognize _your_ handiwork," Legolas said. "It was never your intention that they should abandon this village, was it, Mithrandir?"

"No, it was not."

"Then why did you recommend to Rædwulf that they should?"

"To stir these folk into taking the actions necessary to make their village defensible. Now they are safer, and my task is the easier."

"Why is your task the easier?"

"Well-defended settlements scattered throughout this region—that is a desirable development," Mithrandir replied. "'Twill give the Enemy pause. Now you had best go to sleep, for it is long past your bedtime, I reckon."

"Mithrandir!" Legolas exclaimed indignantly. Beside him, Estel choked as he tried not to laugh. Legolas poked him in the side. "If it is past _my_ bedtime, then it is surely past _yours_," the Elf grumbled.

"It is past all our bedtimes," interjected Radagast. "Well, except for Friend Owl." The brown-robed wizard arose and opened the door to release the owl to hunt for its supper. Then Radagast returned to the bedstead, and their safety assured at least for this one night, he and the others fell sound asleep.


	5. Chapter 5: An Offer of Adventure

**My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.**

**This story should be considered part of "The Nameless One" series because in it Legolas is referred to as Elrond's foster son. It is set after Legolas's reunion with Thranduil, so Legolas goes by his proper name rather than by Anomen. Legolas has come back to visit Rivendell at a point at which Estel is a late adolescent. **

**I would like to note one additional review of Chapter 3, by **_**grumpy123**_**, and I would like to thank the following reviewers of Chapter 4: **_**invisigoth3, leralonde, JastaElf, **_**and **_**CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you unless you have disabled the private messaging feature. (Please notice that the fanfiction site has changed its system so that responses to reviews go out via the private messaging feature. That is why the people who have disabled that feature have not heard back from me.) **

**This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of **_**The Hobbit **_**and**_** The Lord of the Rings**_**. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as **_**The Silmarillion**_**. **

**Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for **_**Parallel Quest**_**, but shorter pieces like this one are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.**

**Chapter 5: An Offer of Adventure**

Their spirits and their bodies uncoiling after the anxious excitement of battle, Estel and Legolas slept longer than they were accustomed, and when they awoke, they found that Mithrandir and Radagast had already arisen and gone outside to breakfast upon cold mutton. "Ah, here are the slug-a-beds," declared Mithrandir as Legolas and Estel emerged from the cottage. "Radagast and I were beginning to wonder whether you had turned into Trolls fearful of the morning light. Come and have your breakfast before it is noon time and courtesy demands that we dine with our hosts and so lose the opportunity to set out whilst it is still morning."

Estel and Legolas could see no reason for forgoing what no doubt would have been a generous lunch, but they obeyed Mithrandir and quickly breakfasted upon the leftover mutton. Soon they were strapping up their packs and preparing to return to the Great East Road to reclaim their horses. Rædwulf emerged from his cottage as they made ready to depart the village. "You will not stay, my friends?" he said. "You would be very welcome."

"I thank you for your courtesy," Mithrandir replied, "but we have an errand cannot wait."

"If ever you pass this way again," Rædwulf said, "be sure you may count upon our hospitality."

"I don't doubt it, my friend," Mithrandir replied. "Nor do I doubt your courage, which I am as likely to call upon as your hospitality. Guard well the Great East Road!"

Indeed, for several decades the portion of the Road that passed near this village was very well protected, and as a result the village prospered, for traders journeying to and fro Breeland preferred to camp near the well-defended village, and its enterprising inhabitants took the opportunity to sell the travelers fresh eggs and vegetables. Rædwulf's son Hroðgar, headman after his father, never allowed his folk to relax their vigilance; nor did Hroðgar's eldest son Wulfgar, who also served as chieftain. Hroðgar had two additional sons, Beowulf and Garwulf, who founded villages nearby, and these villages, too, were defended by sentries and stockades. The Wulfings, as the tribe came to be known, were still powerful fifty years later, when they offered their hospitality to a lone Halfling who wandered into their territory. He seemed a little doddering, but amongst his vague utterances he made mention of Rivendell, and so the Wulfings escorted him safe to the borders of Imladris. And thus did the Wulfings repay Mithrandir's trust. But, as I have said, this event was not to take place for another fifty years.

Meanwhile, Mithrandir, Radagast, Estel, and Legolas bade Rædwulf goodbye, and the villagers gathered to watch them depart. Among them was Ælfgifu. Her face covered with biscuit crumbs, she stood beside her mother. With one hand she waved at the travelers; in her other, she still clutched her toy bird.

"I hope Ælfgifu will have joy," Legolas said thoughtfully.

Mithrandir, who perhaps already had some inkling of the Wulfgar, Beowulf, and Garwulf to come, smiled. "I think _this_ bride of Hroðgar will indeed have joy," he said.

"_This_ bride of Hroðgar?" repeated Legolas. "That is an odd turn of phrase. Will Hroðgar have more than one wife?"

"Oh, I was thinking of another Hroðgar. His bride had some cause for unhappiness. But never you mind that. March on!"

Mithrandir strode swiftly off, his energy belying the appearance of age. Legolas mulled this over. When he had first met Mithrandir, the wizard was already an old man. Although centuries had passed and the Istar had not gotten any younger, neither had he gotten any older, seemingly. "Not a day over five-hundred," the wizard would always say when pressed about his age, but he had been making the same claim for half a millennium.

The Elf's ruminations were interrupted by Estel. "Look," the young Man said, pointing up. In the trees perched numerous vultures.

"We must be passing the spot where the Southron bodies were dragged after the battle," said Legolas, shuddering a little. The travelers quickened their pace until they had left that doleful place behind.

When they reached the Great East Road, they rested a little, eating a few bites of bread and sipping from their water skins. Legolas took this as an opportunity to ask Mithrandir where they would go next.

"Since you have encountered Radagast, shall we still go on to Breeland?" the young Elf asked.

"Yes, for I should like to gain news of that place. I should also like to spend a few days in the Shire and its environs so that I may renew some acquaintances amongst the Tooks and the Brandybucks. There is also a Baggins I shouldn't mind visiting."

Their brief meal at an end, the travelers called for their horses, who trotted up obligingly. As they rode, to Legolas's vexation, Mithrandir began to talk about Dwarves.

"You must know, Legolas, that there was once a great Dwarf kingdom at Erebor."

"I have heard of it," the young Elf said reluctantly. "The Dwarves of Erebor used to trade with the Men of Lake-town."

"Yes, and then the Men of Lake-town would turn about and trade the dwarven goods to the Elves of your father's kingdom. You have eaten a great many meals off plates gilded in the smithies of the Lonely Mount."

Mithrandir returned to the subject when they camped for the night. As Estel prepared the evening meal, the wizard pulled out a parchment and examined it.

"I believe that Erestor had you study a great many maps, Legolas," Mithrandir observed. "What do you make of this map of Erebor?"

Suppressing a grimace, Legolas took the parchment. Sitting cross-legged, he laid it across his knees. "Yes," he said, "here is Erebor in relation to various landmarks." He shrugged. "I have seen many maps like this," he said, handing the parchment back to the wizard.

"Like this, yes, but lacking in certain crucial details—such as how one may enter the Lonely Mountain in despite of the firedrake who dwells within its halls."

Legolas tried to look bored, but the mention of the firedrake spurred his interest. He had seen pictures of dragons in books—everyone had—but a real, live dragon, well, only the oldest amongst the Eldar had encountered such a beast. In the Hall of Fire Glorfindel could on occasion be wheedled into telling tales of battles with worms, and Elrond at his most indulgent would describe flights of dragons wheeling across the evening skies. Generally, though, Legolas and his foster-brothers had had to make do with the dry anatomies of Erestor. "Here," the tutor would say, gesturing to a chart, "is a diagram of the two chief branches of the worm family. On the left we see the cold drakes, on the right the firedrakes. Elrohir, are you paying attention? Good. Now, the main difference between the two branches is that—"

"The one breathes fire and the other doesn't," interrupted Elrohir. "Everyone _knows_ that, Master Erestor."

The tutor looked reproachfully at Elrohir and then, as he usually did, began over again. "I was on the verge of explaining," he resumed loftily, "that on this diagram are illustrated the two chief branches of the worm family, the cold drakes on the left, the firedrakes on the right."

"Master Erestor," Elladan interrupted, "wouldn't it be proper to say that you weren't on the _verge_ of explaining but that you were indeed explaining?"

The tutor glared at the younger twin, cleared his throat, and recommenced. Elladan opened his mouth to speak again but Legolas—or Anomen, as he was then called—jogged his elbow. "You are merely going to prolong the lesson," he whispered, "for he will begin all over again _all over again_." So the elflings sat as still as they could whilst Erestor expatiated upon the distinctions between flying dragons and non-flying ones, the variations in coloration between this and that breed, the hardness of scales and talons, the configurations of wings, and so on and so forth. That pedantic lecture ought to have been enough to quell any interest Legolas might have had in dragons, but at its conclusion, the young Elf eagerly asked how best to battle a drake. "Battle a drake!" Erestor exclaimed, horrified. "One ought not to battle a drake unless it is absolutely unavoidable. Have you not heard the saying, 'Let sleeping dragons lie'?"

Legolas had heard the phrase—usually when either Elrohir or Elladan warned him that he ought not to rile Glorfindel—but the adage was not sufficient to dampen his curiosity. And now here was Mithrandir holding a map that promised an adventure involving a drake.

Mithrandir looked at him and quirked an eyebrow, as if he knew what the young Elf was thinking. "Well, my lad, have you any interest in traveling to the Lonely Mountain?"

"With you?"

"Not primarily. The rightful owner of this map is a Dwarf. Thorin Oakenshield, to be precise. At the moment he is traveling to Breeland with twelve companions. Thirteen Dwarves in all. Mortals think that number an unlucky one."

"So you are looking for a fourteenth companion?"

"Exactly." Mithrandir looked inquiringly at his young companion.

Legolas hung fire. On the one hand, Mithrandir was offering him an opportunity to go on a great adventure. On the other hand, thirteen Dwarves were mixed up in it. Still, a dragon! This inducement was very nearly enough. Legolas wavered, his curiosity about drakes just about balancing his antipathy toward Dwarves.

In the end, what decided the matter was Legolas's knowledge that Thranduil would be furious if his son got involved with the scheme. Legolas was not certain whether his father would be most upset at the prospect of his son encountering the Dwarves or the dragon, but upset he would be.

With some regret, Legolas shook his head. "I am sorry, Mithrandir, but I cannot. The Dwarves must chance the quest as a band of thirteen."

"Perhaps not," Mithrandir replied. "There is another," he added softly, as if speaking to himself, "and peradventure he is in fact better suited to the task. It may be," the wizard continued more loudly, "that I shall be able to interest you in another adventure at a later time. Said adventure may lack dragons, but there are creatures enough in this world that may take the place of drakes if one is in the market for a quest."

Legolas was relieved that Mithrandir did not hold his refusal against him, and he hoped the wizard proved to be right about a future adventure. 'I shall have to get round my father's objections', the young Elf said to himself, 'but perhaps circumstances shall arise that will allow me to do so'.

By now Estel had finished preparing a tasty stew, and Legolas put aside all notions of quest and adventure. The young Elf took up his bowl and discovered himself to be very, very hungry. He devoured his portion rapidly and looking longingly at the pot, which, alas, had contained only enough for one serving for each traveler.

Estel caught his friend's eye and grinned. "Still hungry, Legolas?"

"You know that I am," Legolas retorted.

Still grinning, Estel went to his pack and withdrew a small parcel. "Biscuits!" cried Legolas. "The Cook gave _you_ biscuits, too!"

"We-ell," Estel said slowly, "he didn't exactly _give_ them to me—but it is his own fault that he left them out where I could get at them!"

Mithrandir and Legolas began to laugh heartily, and Radagast joined in (although he did not, in point of fact, know what was so humorous about the discovery that Estel was carrying biscuits). After a moment, Estel began to laugh as well. Then, when they had recovered, Estel shared out the treats; and Legolas, although he did not have any crumbs on his face, went to sleep that night as content as any village urchin possessed of a full stomach and secure in the knowledge that he was well loved.


End file.
